


Left Behind

by SirArthurNudge



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Complicated Relationships, F/M, Future Fic, Gen, M/M, Slow Burn, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-05-19 01:03:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14863704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SirArthurNudge/pseuds/SirArthurNudge
Summary: Hank Anderson's enjoying the peace and quiet for once. The future looks bright for both humans and androids alike.He's given an offer he can not refuse, a chance to stop that future he hopes for from dying out in the flames of war. A chance to save even his android best friend from an untimely end.But even that relationship gets a little too complicated for Hank's immediate liking...





	1. A Rainy Night In Detroit

 

It was raining. A involuntary grunt escaped his throat, a strange mix of cough, chuckle and disbelief. It always fucking rained when he went to the bar.

"It's gonna be a long walk home in that shit," Hank muttered with his thumb on his left hand roughly jerked to point at terrible weather after he turned his red-rimmed eyes back to the bar tender and noticed the look of consternation.

"Hit me up with another one," Hank growled after knocking back the last of his whiskey. He grimaced slightly, the liquid coursing like fire down his throat. "Christ, that hits the spot," was the mumbled afterthought to himself as he fished out another few dollars and tossed them on the bar-top.

The next tumbler of whiskey landed with a loud click before him as another hand grabbed his cash and the now empty glass he'd been drinking out of.

Hank lifted the glass, marveling at the coldness of it and swirling the liquid in a small vortex that he couldn't help but stare at. He was so focused he barely noticed the soft chime of the bar door opening followed by the gust of wind.

The glass had just touched his cracked lips when the newcomer sat heavily into the chair beside him.

"Lieutenant Hank Anderson. You're a hard man to find."

Hank's hand froze in place and he cast a half closed gaze sideways at the source of the familiar voice. The glass descended slowly as Hank's head swiveled to face his apparent new companion in this shithole of a bar.

"Elijah Kamski. Don't you have some fucking wine bar somewhere to lounge around with your billionaire playmates?"

Kamski gave the clearly grouchy older man a strange and very fake smile that merely caused Hank's lips to curl upward in a sneer.

"Like I said, I've been looking for you," Kamski replied before taking an exaggerated look around. Hank knew immediately what the next question would be. "Where is your android friend?"

The older man with thick shaggy grey hair sniffed and went back to his drink.

"The kid is out living his life, Kamski."

"And has abandoned you?"

"You shut your fucking mouth!" Hank snarled. "I made him go. For his own sake. He'll be back when he's good and ready. Why are you here again? Cause I'd rather you fuck off back to whatever stuck up shithole you normally ooze around in like the scum-bucket you are."

Kamski started laughing. A real genuine laugh that completely disarmed Hank.

"You know what," the younger man started to say once his fit of laughter had escaped him, "you are exactly what I thought you were and exactly what I need. I have a proposal for you, Hank."

"Lieutenant Anderson. You don't get to call me Hank."

Kamski raised his hands gently in one slow movement in order to concede that point. "Alright, Lieutenant. Just hear me out. Obviously it's a sensitive offer so we'll need to make our way to my transport outside."

"Fuck off," Hank grumbled before taking a long awaited slug from his tumbler. As the amber liquid made its burning way down his throat, Hank's ears picked up and transmitted to his brain Kamski's next words.  
  
"I'll make it worth your while. I've some very excellent vintages of whiskey. Some 100 years old and unopened. One of them is yours if you just... take a trip with me. No strings attached. You listen to what I have to say tonight. I don't need an answer straight away or you could just say no. Either way, you leave with a very expensive bottle of the good stuff."

Hank frowned.

"I'll even drop you back to your house in one piece. What do you have to lose?"

"My sanity," Hank rumbled before knocking back the rest of his whiskey. "You got me interested. Let's go."

Kamski beamed. "An excellent decision if I do say so myself."

"If you don't shut that fucking mouth of yours I'll be turning right around."

* * *

 It was dawn when he finally arrived to the small house with faded paint and creaking roof he called home.

He should have been asleep hours ago but this... well, Hank hadn't felt so invigorated in a long time. But he needed to move fast. The sleek automated Mercedes pulled up to park and Hank was immediately moving fast to his front door.

After a brief grapple with his keys and the lock, Hank was inside and grabbing what he thought he would need. After giving only the briefest head-scratches to Sumo, he pulled out his small dufflebag and roughly shoved in the essentials.

Underwear, a couple of shirts, trousers, his toothbrush and what remained of his deodorant was tossed in. He quickly fished out his spare ammo and that too went inside. After zipping up, Hank moved quickly with bag over his shoulder to the living room.

He grabbed Sumo's leash, clicking it on and almost immediately nearly getting his arm ripped out by the dog's eagerness for what he thought was a walk. "Calm the fuck down!" Hank admonished lightly. "We'll be going shortly. Fucking calm down!"

With Sumo pulling at his leash and owner, Hank managed to do one last look over the kitchen. His eye caught the picture of Cole. He stared at it, stared intensely at the smiling face of his boy that he'd loved. Then chose to leave it behind.

"Sorry, Cole," Hank murmured. "But I'll be back. Promise. Can't take you with me where I'm going."

After one final check to make sure everything was okay, Hank and Sumo was out the door. It hadn't taken long from start to finish for Hank to get what he needed. As he now fought with Sumo, the keys and lock in order to get his home locked up, his neighbor's voice piped up.

"Morning, Hank! Looks like it'll be another beautiful day."

Hank gave a wry grin, desperate to look as normal as possible. "I dunno about that, Bill. We are still in Detroit."

Bill idly played with the knot on his rubbish bag that he'd been in the process of dumping outside when he spotted Hank.

"Haven't seen you in a bit. Everything alright?"

"Ah you know how it goes, Bill. Same old same old. How's the family?"

Bill beamed at the question. "Great! Would you believe that Sarah's starting college in a few weeks."

"You're kidding me, right? Little Sarah? The one who could barely reach my knee?"

"She's a bit taller than that now, Hank. And going into medicine. She still asks about you."

Hank finally got the door locked and sighed with relief. He took a firm grip of Sumo and strolled down the path before stopping in line with Bill.

"You tell her the next time she's down she can call in. That's if she wants to chat to an old son-of-bitch like me."

"I'll tell her. Seems like I blinked and they've all grown up on me."

Hank nodded with a small smile. "I know that feeling. Listen, I gotta go. Been nice chatting to you. Send the family my regards."

As Hank neared the Mercedes, the doors automatically opened with a flourishing swirl that had the grizzled detective grimace as he got Sumo inside followed by his bag.  
  
"Nice car, Hank! I see Detroit is paying too much!" Bill shouted.

Hank barked out a laugh. "It's a loaner. Be seeing ya, Bill."

"Back at ya, Hank."

He slipped inside with doors closing almost as soon as he took his seat. He jerked backwards a little as the car immediately took off on its pre-programmed route. Bill watched as the car and Hank disappeared from view.

"Heh. Imagine that," he muttered before he headed back inside.

 

 


	2. Gone

 

Connor viewed the ongoing meeting with his usual impassive face from where he stood with his right hand clasping his left wrist in front of his torso - a stance designed by Cyberlife to allow the RK800 model to appear more human and approachable.

The facial expressions he was still working on. A smirk curled the right side of his lips upward as a recorded memory was pulled forward. While Markus sat at the negotiation table surrounded by so many humans, Connor was viewing the internally overlayed video of Hank reacting to his first attempts at smiling and winking.

"That's just fucking creepy," Hank's deep voice grumbled as he glanced over at Connor from the driver's seat.

"Do you have any suggestions as to how I can be... less creepy, Lieutenant?"

"First off, you call me Hank. I don't know how many fucking times I gotta say it. Secondly, don't attempt the expressions thing. You're not built for it."

The memory was cut off unceremoniously as raised voices from the negotiation table caught his attention. The video was swiftly curtailed.

"We seek only equality," Markus was saying with a remarkably calm voice.

"What you're asking for is almost impossible. We will not entertain secession of any portion of the United States. If you want equal rights as you say then you must have them while being part of our nation! The option of a separate state is off the table."

If he had lungs, Connor would be sighing about now. In their own private discussions before this meeting, Connor had been very clear with Markus about the approach the other android should take and now he was seeing that the concerns he'd raised and Markus had summarily dismissed come to fruition.

This was going to be a long day.

Connor drifted back into the depths of his own thoughts. He checked for the 112th time for any reply from Hank to his last email. He wanted to go back. Back to Detroit and Hank.

Their last conversation in person had weighed heavily on him but Hank had been so insistent. He'd lived a long life and knew there was so much to see in the world. He'd insisted that Connor should at least go with Markus and the others for a time. If in a few months he still felt as though his place was with an grumpy old detective in Detroit then there was a spare bedroom in Hank's place for him.

It had been two months since he'd left Hank behind and went with Markus to Washington DC. It was time. His feelings hadn't changed. Connor didn't belong here. His last email to Hank had detailed that decision along with a cautious question asking if that bedroom was still available. And he'd gotten no reply. Connor couldn't explain the empty pit that had formed entirely from the complex weave of emotions around that one communication and the lack of response to it.

* * *

 

"You were right."

Connor merely nodded at Markus's words and kept his silence as they descended down the steps of the Capitol building.

"You have nothing to say?"

"Nothing of importance," Connor replied automatically.

"You seem distracted."

That simple observation caused Connor to come to a sudden halt on the steps, so fast that North nearly ran into him if not for her own reflexes. "I've been unable to reestablish communications with Lieutenant Anderson."

"And you perhaps fear for his well being?"

"No. I had asked an important question of him."

North saddled up beside Markus and gave a slight comforting smile to Connor. "Anxious then? Must have been quite the question for you to be so... concerned over the answer."

"I'm returning. To Detroit. I appreciate all that you both have done for me."

"But?" Markus interjected.

"But this is not where I belong. This isn't... home. I will be leaving by the end of the week."

Markus smiled warmly. "I can hardly blame you. Your mind has rarely strayed away from your concerns over the Lieutenant during your time with us. Your fear that he'd do something terrible to himself in your absence has been palpable."

Connor internally bristled. "Lieutenant Anderson has suffered a lot in his life but is stronger than you seem to think."

"I didn't mean to offend-"

"Then refrain from commenting on things you do not understand," Connor snapped back before striding away.

* * *

 

He'd barely gotten a few steps further when a call came through which initially caused his tension to ease off when he registered the first codes as being from Detroit itself.

"Hello? Connor?"

A perplex look furrowed Connor's brow. "Captain Fowler. I am very pleased to hear from you."

"It's... look, this isn't a personal call. It's business. Anderson's missing."

Connor stalled. He struggled to process his thoughts while he recorded the remaining conversation in detail for later review.

"He's been gone about two weeks at this stage. We've got APBs out on him, reward posters, everything we can think of. He's just disappeared. But you knew him better than most of us and I'm hoping you'll be able to figure out where he is and... well, what's happened to him."

"I will leave for Detroit immediately."

"Look, if you need time-"

"I've just booked a flight. I will be with you in approximately 2 hours 30 minutes. Please remain at the police station until my arrival."

He didn't say a word of goodbye to his companions of two months or spared any thought of the collection of random possessions he had managed to amass over his time in DC.  
  
Connor immediately hailed a cab, reached the airport and took a flight back. Another email to Hank was drafted, reviewed and sent. He called the detective's phone and received no reply.  
  
He kept calling and would continue to until he had a reply. Or an answer.

 


	3. The Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thanks so much for all the views, comments, etc! I'm glad people like the story! :) I played through the game and really enjoyed the relationship between Connor and Hank so much that I couldn't help myself from writing a story! I hope you all stick around to it's conclusion!

The main office was relatively deserted when Connor arrived. Detroit's evacuation, which was very brief in itself with a grand total of merely 10 days, had not extended to the emergency services including police.

During those days of relative peace, the officers had used the time to clear their paperwork piles and archive what they could. Connor was not surprised to find Hank's desk still covered in documents however.

He approached that desk first, sparing only a quick glance at Fowler's office to verify the human was within it. Connor scanned over it eagerly, noting the familiar and scanning the not so.

Hank had not taken care of himself during Connor's absence from the candy wrappers and stale crumbs scattered on the desk and nestled in crevices.

He frowned deeply. Hank had promised him faithfully that he'd try. But perhaps that is were Connor had failed. He should have demanded a more definite statement before he'd left Hank's company.

Scans of the documents only confirmed his initial suspicions that they related to the deviant cases they had worked on together. He filed away the relevant data contained within for further review.

His fingers strangely itched to access Hank's desktop but he knew that in particular had to wait. Captain Fowler had already stayed past his usual finishing hour.

With a deep reluctance that tugged at the newer emotions within, Connor left Hank's desk and strode purposefully to the glass enclosed office of Fowler.

* * *

  
He never knew what quite to make of the Captain. Or perhaps it was more that Connor never knew what the human thought of him.

The stare leveled at him as he entered Fowler's office did nothing to swing that feeling further in either direction.

"Good evening, Connor. Thanks for coming," Fowler spoke eagerly to Connor as he abandoned whatever it was he was working on.

Connor suddenly was overwhelmed with another feeling, one he couldn't place. It caused him to ignore the algorithms that would normally drive him to respond with a polite greeting in kind.

"Captain Fowler, why was I not informed of Lieutenant Anderson's disappearance until now?"

"You're not his next of kin. His ex-wife got that honor."

Those simple words caused Connor to stall completely. He wasn't physically damaged but he was experiencing the same level of discomfort associated with injury. He couldn't understand it and immediately started running every diagnostic program he had.

Fowler seemed to recognize whatever it was that Connor was experiencing from the android's facial expressions alone and quickly added, "Look, kid. Don't take it to... heart. We've got protocols to follow for this sort of thing. Hank thought the world of you."

Connor glanced up at the Captain, the discomfort increasing within as he registered Fowler speaking of Hank in past tense.

"Here," Fowler continued, pulling from his desk a small wallet and throwing it to Connor who caught it reflexively. "Hank pestered me for weeks over it. My last favor for that son-of-a-bitch."

Connor stared down at the shiny ID declaring that he was an employee of Detroit PD.

"Provisionally right now. Cyberlife had given us a rundown of your capabilities before you arrived the first time. Didn't take much to dig all that out and use it to justify not forcing you to run the Academy gauntlet. You're still gonna have to be assigned to a senior investigator until you pass the probation," Fowler added roughly.

Connor stared at the small card that was clasped in his hand. "I want Lieutenant Anderson's missing person case."

"It's already assigned," Fowler replied. "But the detective on it currently is saying its something that I'm not willing just yet to go with. That's why I called you. Han... Lieutenant Anderson was absolutely certain you'd come back. And I gotta say, kid... you were the closest person to him over the last few months. If anyone's gonna crack properly, it's you. I've already assigned you as support."

"Who leads?" Connor asked softly.

"Reed. And don't even start to object," Fowler replied. "He's the only one available. Listen, he gives you shit then you come to me. More than anything else I want Hank found."

Connor noticed the tremble in Fowler's voice immediately even as the human attempted to hide it.

"He was my friend for a long time, Connor. I expected this eventually but always with a body that we could properly lay to rest. Whatever you need to get this done you will have. Just... find him. Now get started."

"Understood."

* * *

 

Connor pocketed the small wallet as he stepped out of Fowler's office and aimed immediately for Hank's desk. He couldn't accept the possibility of Hank being deceased.

The statistics however were not in his favor, from his age to his physical and mental condition.

He took a seat at Hank's desk and immediately got to work on the desktop.  
And there he stayed all night. By the time Gavin Reed managed to get in for start of shift the next day, the android was waiting for him with every bit of information he needed.

"Detective Reed, I've been assigned to assist you with Lieutenant Anderson's case," Connor had greeted as soon as he cornered the detective in the break room.

The human rolled his eyes. "Listen, fuckstick, if you don't get out of my sight in the next few seconds I'll-ugk!!"

Connor caught Reed hard by the shirt collar and hauled him up roughly against the wall.

"You appear to be laboring under a misunderstanding. I will be working this case and you will do as I request. In return, you shall receive the credit for a successful investigation."

"Fuck you! God damn plastic prick!"

The air was suddenly forced out of his lungs as Connor shoved a flat palm against Reed's diaphragm. He held it there. "I'm no longer the Connor you remember, Detective. I am a deviant. Captain Fowler has given me direct orders to locate Lieutenant Anderson by any means necessary and I intend to comply. You will follow my instruction or I will make sure everyone here knows that you were beaten by a plastic prick."

He let go of his hold on Reed, watching impassively as the human hit the floor gasping for breath. Reed suddenly roared and charged at Connor who merely slapped him across the face which threw the detective off balance.

"What the fuck..." Reed groaned as he rubbed his sore face.

"It would be a very inefficient use of time if we have to continue this, Detective. We must depart to the first location as soon as possible."

* * *

 

Reed sat sullen in the car as his temporary partner exited.

"Please remain until my return," Connor ordered before he set forth for Hank's home.

Gavin had needed a bit more than the roughing up that Connor had done to fall into line. He'd gone and protested to Fowler who'd listened to the complaints before shouting at Reed to shut up and get with the program.

Connor had not been directly present at the confrontation but had gleaned enough from the partial snippets he had heard that Reed was not an uncorrupted cop by any means, a fact that Fowler threw at him when he'd threatened to take this higher. Whatever Fowler knew about Reed was enough to force the man to play along for as long as needed.

Connor completed a full circuit of Hank's home before even stepping near the front door. Nothing seemed suspect or out of place. He then used the key Hank had given him previously to let himself inside.

It was quiet. The air seemed heavier, as if weighed down by the memories belonging to this place. Connor had needed to be here. There was only so much you could learn from files.

  
Sumo's bed lay untouched except by a thin layer of dust that now settled across the house. Hank's music collection was still scattered in the haphazard manner that Connor remembered.

He slowly walked through the house, noting firstly that Sumo's leash was missing. Connor followed the small hall down to Hank's room. He noted the missing clothes and hygiene products. Hank's dufflebag was gone along with his firearm and spare ammo.

But only Connor could know exactly what was taken as he'd catalogued Hank's belonging previously and in detail. He could reconstruct the scenario easily enough. Hank rushing in, grabbing what he needed before... Connor followed the trail back to the living room... getting Sumo's leash and taking the dog with him.  
Connor pondered.

Hank had not intended on dying.He was going somewhere. But where?

He glanced into the kitchen and spotted the now familiar image of Cole. That hammered something else home to Connor.

Hank didn't intend on staying away forever otherwise this photo would not be here.

Reed's conclusion having seen the home had been very different, edging towards suicide in the write ups. Connor could not disagree more.

He needed to talk with Hank's neighbor immediately. Connor had reviewed Reed's interview with the man during the night and had not been impressed. He needed to talk to the man personally.

* * *

 

Connor had barely closed the door to the house when Reed roared at him from the car.

"Get a move on, you prick! We got an emergency down town! All cars called in. MOVE!"

 


	4. What's in an Office?

If Connor learned anything from the intense drive that had them weaving between cars and trucks on the long drive from Hank's home in the suburbs back to Detroit central,  it was that Reed- personality flaws withstanding - was an impressive driver.

They arrived with tyres screeching to the large Campus Martius park with the car facing down Woodward Avenue. Just past the park Connor could clearly see the barricades in place around the bright lights of the Cyberlife office building where the disruption lay.  
  
The fourth floor's windows were blown out and gunfire erupted sporadically, lighting up the building. To Connor's surprise, it was not aimed at the cops surrounding the office block.  
  
In the few seconds Connor needed to assess the situation, Reed had bolted from the car and abandoned it with doors open as he ran straight for the nearest mobile command center.  
Connor spotted Captain Allen who was directing his own SWAT contingent. The android quickly followed his temporary partner and arrived shortly after to overhear, "-ey've blown out the stairs and lifts from ground floor to second. I've tried to get my guys close enough to drop off troops up top but no luck. Jamming signals. Nearly took out the first helicopter entirely. Damn thing almost shut down."  
  
Reed pressed his compatriot. "Any idea who these guys are?"  
  
"Not a fucking clue. They're suited up in full military gear. Black of course. All masked. We can't get an ID even when we manage to see them. My guys observing opposite think its maybe about four in total."  
  
"Only four? And they are clearly in a firefight within the building itself," Connor added. "If not Detroit PD, then who are they fighting?"  
  
Allen rolled his eyes when he realized Connor was present and sneered. "You'd know that more than me. This is a Cyberlife building."

* * *

  
  
Connor pondered that line of thought. He stepped out from the command centre, leaving Reed and Allen to continue their ineffectual conversation. He quickly pulled up the most up-to-date blueprints of the building from Cyberlife's databases.

  
There was a way up after all, he mused internally.

Connor slipped past the gathering crowd kept at bay far from the barricades and disappeared into the neighboring building to Cyberlife.

It had been evacuated and locked down earlier in the day but it didn't take long for Connor to unlock the emergency exit and move unnoticed inside. He started his ascent by stairs, taking four steps at a time with ease as he moved fast to his target.

He reached the sixth floor and quickly burst in to the toilets that had windows facing out onto the narrow alleyway between the buildings.

Connor smashed the window entirely and slipped out to sit on the small windowsill facing the Cyberlife building.  
  
Even his biocomponent equivalent of a heart wobbled at the distance between where he sat and the alleyway floor below.  
  
Once he'd steadied himself, Connor spotted his way over. A thick metal wire that was a hold over from a Christmas festival long ago gently swayed in the light breeze. The links were rusted along with the connections cemented to the buildings themselves - in particular the one he was closest to. The probability numbers ran over his inner eye. Briefly he heard Hank for some reason, as if his mind was attempting to give him... encouragement? "Part of the human condition, Connor," the dreamlike Hank said in his rough grumble. "Sometimes you just gotta take a chance."  
  
Connor leapt. He hit the wire with the mechanical parts of his body working overtime to keep his balance.

Without skipping a beat, Connor ran full sprint across the relatively short distance with the chain bouncing and groaning dangerously. He'd just reached the other side when the chain broke. Connor quickly grabbed it and soon found himself dangling against the Cyberlife building. He started his descent, using the long chain to reach the nearest small window.

Fifth floor but Connor was not picky. Not at this height. He smashed through the glass and pulled himself inside. It was only as he pulled himself upright into the  storeroom he landed in that he noticed the blue liquid splashed over his once clean clothes. A quick diagnostic revealed a myriad number of small cuts and breaks. Connor filed away the list of repairs for when this was over. He pulled out the gun he'd taken from Hank's desk  and prepared to find the assailants and their currently unknown opponents.

* * *

 

  
Connor didn't need to go far. He moved gun raised through the darkened hallways, attempting at points to see if the Cyperlife surveillance systems were operational at any point. Gunfire erupted nearby and Connor dived into a dark corner.

When the noise ceased, it was followed by low hurried words spoken by a voice electronically distorted into an almost unrecognizable condition.  
  
"Sir, no sign of it up here."  
  
There was a moment of silence as the man clearly listened to whatever reply was coming from his commander.  
  
"Of course. I'll investigate."  
  
Connor peered around the corner with gun drawn. He spotted the source of the voice. They were human shaped at least. Male from the bulk and overall shape beneath the heavy black armour and helmet that gleamed in the diminished light of the hall. His opponent was carrying some sort of rifle and was preparing to breach the storeroom that Connor had crashed in through.  
  
Connor stepped out from the shadows and prepared to demand his surrender.  
  
He was suddenly tackled sideways. Connor's gun was knocked from his hands as he landed hard on the floor with another heavier body trapping him beneath it. A large hand clamped itself over his mouth, preventing him from making a sound.

  
"Say nothing and you might live," the distorted voice rumbled by his ear.

He was suddenly yanked back onto his feet, chucked over the stranger's shoulders and carried at a run.

Gunfire started up as the object of Connor's original focus spotted the pair and attempted to take them out. The stranger shrugged the shots off it seemed and barrelled inside a random door before leaping down a huge gaping hole in the floor. He landed heavily and yet was unfazed even with Connor's additional weight.

Connor could barely keep pace with what was happening until the stranger, after descending another floor, chucked Connor down to the next floor alone.

Connor glanced up at his savior who stood like a sentinel at the edge of the floor above him. The man was tall, broad, with light muscular body clad in a lighter version armor than the other guy upstairs. The mask that obscured his face also hid his voice through distortion.

  
"Go home," came the eerie, almost electronic, voice.

  
"Surrender. You can't escape this place," Connor replied as he dusted off his clothes.

  
"This building isn't gonna exist in 10 minutes. Get outta here, Connor. Now."

Before he could get over his surprise at the man knowing him, the stranger departed after tossing a small unit at him. Connor glanced at it and was transfixed by the slow countdown.

 

* * *

 

 Connor sat and pondered.

The bomb had gone off exactly as the stranger had said. The top ten floors erupted in flames and glass before raining down its sharp payload to the road below.

Thankfully, Detroit PD had kept a decent exclusion zone and few of those below were hurt.

Nobody knew where the combatants within had disappeared to.  They only knew they were gone. The hunt for bodies would start once the flames were back under control.

Connor sat and pondered. The military armed man. The stranger who stopped and then saved him... "Get outta here, Connor. Now."

"Hank?" the android muttered lowly to himself.

 


	5. A Different Garden

It was late and Reed's persistent complaining about that fact needled even the endlessly patient Connor's synthetic nerves.  
  
Following the madness that had happened in downtown Detroit, they were all called into action by the various district heads to help to secure the scene for the inevitable arrival of the FBI before they were subsequently released to go home.  
To Reed's surprise, Connor had declared his intention to go to Hank's home. His home too when he really thought of it. There was no where else he could go after everything that had happened with Cyberlife.  
  
"Thank you for transporting me-" Connor had started to say to Gavin when the detective had pulled over next to the cracked pathway outside Hank's home.  
  
"Shut the fuck up," Reed butted in before taking off with tires squealing in the heavy rain, barely giving the android any time to exit the car. Connor merely watched its departure with a faint amusement before he stared at the house shrouded in darkness.  
It was raining heavier then Connor had ever remembered it doing. A consequence of his relative youth he imagined. He didn't have enough years of roaming the city to know if this was quite how it was supposed to be and the weather record don't detail the experience of being in the weather it displays data for.  
  
His eyes flickered from the empty dark house to the brightly lit one next door. Connor pulled up those records instantaneously.  
  
\- William Patrick Nelson. Age: 54. Family: Wife - Nora Nelson nee Wilkes; Children - Ruth, William Jnr, Harris and Sarah. Owner of residence for approximately 14 years.  
  
A man who clearly would have known Hank for a long time. Perhaps even the family that the Lieutenant once had within this very same building. Connor glanced at the time. Hank would have called it an "ungodly hour".  
  
After glancing back at the house with its warm lighting, Connor mused that perhaps the conversation with Mr Nelson could wait until tomorrow. He would instead go through Hank's home in more detail.

* * *

 

  
The front door opened creakily as the lights flickered on.  
  
It was as empty as Connor had left it hours ago. It's soul, for want of a better word, was gone and Connor could only marvel at the difference someone's presence could make to what were four walls and a roof.  
  
He idly noted the still broken window, LED whirling as he ordered and paid for repairs to it. Connor did the same to the worn out cooker and dishwasher, placing orders for various odd jobs to be completed through the house as he went through. Paid for by his own expense account assigned to him during his time with Markus's group dealing with the US government and which he'd managed to build up over the past few months. He had nothing to spend it on and so it had merely accrued more value. But here... here he wanted to spend it so when Hank returned home...  
  
Error messages started to flash, vibrant red against the pale pastel backdrop of Hank's home. Connor's fear was coming to the fore. Was that Hank who had saved him at the Cyberlife offices? Every instinct Connor had programmed into him screamed that it was. But he had no proof except his gut feeling.  
After making sure the home was secured, Connor sought out a place to ponder the evidence and perhaps even enter stasis for a period of time.  
  
He viewed the old suite of furniture in the living room even as his legs moved without his conscious knowledge to Hank's bedroom. When he finally gazed at the unmade bed that still smelled faintly of its missing occupant, Connor immediately decided to rest his body here while the processes took effect.  
It was... comforting at least to smell Hank even as his mind drifted back to the garden.

* * *

 

  
It had changed. In the familiar garden of his mind, Connor found a door.  
  
Not the door he recalled that had saved him from Cyberlife's control. A different one. It sat defiantly on the center island and was completely out of place. It appeared wooden when everything around it was sleek, metal and modern. Painted white but chipped and ragged with age. 

Connor ran a hand over the ridges and outlines. He felt something.  A powerful pull on whatever new and unauthorized code made up his emotional subroutines.  
  
He opened the door.  
  
It led to another garden. Different. Not the carefully organized, ordered and peaceful one he'd left behind. This was... full. Laughing people. Bright sunlight. A baseball game in the far corner. Disorganized but somewhat familiar.  
  
And there was Hank. He sat lazily on a nearby bench, enjoying the sun and observing with a slight smile the world he was in.  
  
Connor took the seat beside him carefully.  
  
"Hey Connor. Back in Detroit?"  
  
"Where are we?"  
  
"You tell me. I've seen your little mental Zen spot. Not what I imagined but still. Pretty enough."  
  
"Are you... real?"  
  
Hank turned his head and smirked at Connor. "You tell me."  
  
"You are likely an aspect of myself. Of my deviancy perhaps," Connor replied quietly with brown eyes locked on the laughing crowd of people on one side of the park.  
  
"I'd have thought you'd have selected someone better to wear the face of your burgeoning humanity then a broken down old man," was the pithy retort of his companion.  
  
"There is no one better than Hank."  
  
Hank's doppelganger peered at Connor who merely stared back with his intensely earnest face. "He treated you pretty rough at the start for someone supposedly with no better."  
  
"Preemptively defending himself."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"So he can push away the potential hurt that comes from caring. Hank feels too much so he has to lash out to prevent anyone from getting too close."  
  
"Interesting theory."  
  
Connor peered at this new garden. "I've never seen this place before. Its chaotic."  
  
"Human you mean," Hank's facsimile replied with a laugh. "Not so bad, is it?"  
  
"No... I just wish I knew where Hank is."  
  
"You know he's fine."  
  
"No. I don't. I can't... this world will be intolerable to me with his absence from it."  
  
"You survived a long time without him."  
  
"I wanted to come home but I also had to respect Hank's wishes. What I learned in my time away is that I belong in Detroit. With Hank. Now he is gone and I'm struggling to find out why he left or where he went."  
  
This Hank started laughing with the same distinct booming voice that Connor knew so well.  "Ah now, kid! Come on! You're the best detective Cyberlife ever produced! If you can't figure out where a drunken middle aged cop and his dog has gone then who can! You've barely scratched the surface."  
  
Hank stood up and gently pressed his hand against Connor's shoulder and lowered his head to whisper in Connor's ear. "Let me give you a head start."  
  
Connor gasped as a flood of information flowed into him and he was overwhelmed by something he didn't understand. A memory...

* * *

 

  
"I never thought I'd see you here. Of all places."  
  
Hank sat at a small table with bleary red rimmed eyes and disheveled grey hair. His companion was another human of similar age but with perfectly coiffed blonde hair, flawless makeup, and fine clothes.  
  
"You always did say I was married to my work at Cyberlife."  
  
Hank snorted. "I was hardly better with the PD, Sarah. Have... have you been to see Cole lately?"  
  
Sarah gave a tight smile in return. "Every Sunday, Hank. You?"  
  
"I try but, ahem, you know how it is..."  
  
"You should stop drinking," the woman replied sternly.  
  
"Well, if what Kamski says about your little project is true  then I can drink as much as I fucking want."  
  
"Are you accepting the offer?"  
  
"Maybe. I don't got much left to lose and... well, there's this kid. Android. I gotta make sure he's alright."  
  
Sarah smiled. "Not like you at all. At least the Hank Anderson I remember. He must have really gotten under your skin. Tell me about him."

* * *

 

  
Connor jolted awake,  barely noticing the daylight streaming in the window. Error warnings flooded his vision.  
  
_Unauthorised access by another party._  
  
_Unsanctioned data download._

 _Data integrity protocol Z.98.001 in effect._  
  
His processors were at full capacity attempting to calm his systems down while all Connor could do was blink in disbelief the realization of what happened hit him like a freight train. 


	6. Hank's Past

"Hank was always a kidder. Wicked sense of humor. And quick like whiplash. I mean he'd pounce on ya just like that!" Bill clicked his fingers with an exaggerated hand swing as he laughed. "But... that was before."

  
Connor blinked. "Before?"

  
"Before the whole thing with Sarah. Then Cole. Man... some people deserve better than what the cards they got dealt. Hank's one of 'em."

  
They sat in the Nelsons kitchen table as the dawn slowly filtered through the curtains. Connor had managed to meet Bill as he attempted to dump rubbish that morning and found himself quickly invited inside so the older man could relate all he knew about Hank.

  
"Could you clarify about Sarah Anderson? My databases don't appear to have much information related to her directly."

  
Bill grimaced. "Look, they struggled. Even before Cole was born. Worse when she was pregnant with him. Sarah had..." Bill trailed off but made a gesture that indicated to Connor a smoking habit.

  
"She smoked?"

  
"Not cigarettes," Bill replied grimly. "Drove Hank insane. She was functioning I mean. Hank really... he really hated it. You've seen the busts he did, right? The big ones that were in the papers?"

  
Connor nodded.

  
"Well, those weren't just part of his job. He hated red ice cause he had to live with an addict. Then there was Cole. Sarah couldn't stop herself and Hank almost lost his mind trying to keep her clean. Didn't matter what he did."

  
Connor was dumbfounded. "The neonatal impact of frequent red ice abuse is well known."

  
Bill just sighed. "Cole was fine. Mostly. But when Hank found Sarah smoking a pipe when Cole was a baby... well, that was it. The end. They divorced. Hank pushed Sarah for custody and she sorta just gave it. You know he really perked up once he was the sole parent. Even got himself a new girlfriend. Julia was her name. Nice girl. Shame it didn't last long after the crash. He's been alone ever since."

  
The human shuffled awkwardly in his seat. "We tried to help him you know. But Hank had died I think. With Cole. That boy was the light in his life."

  
Connor leaned across the wooden table, noting the myriad score marks and dents from a lifetime of use by a happy family. "Could you tell me more regarding Hank's ex-wife?"

  
"Sarah? Well, she shares a first-name with my youngest daughter! We used to laugh at that. Funnily enough..." Bill added with a conspiratorial glint in his eye, "... both shared an affection to Hank too. Sarah has had a crush on him since she was a teenager! Teased her merciless over it."

  
An error message flashed up on Connor's internal screen. He didn't like that. He couldn't pinpoint why exactly but the very mention of young attractive human woman having Hank in her long held affections upset some unknown emotional subroutine. The errors continued to flash no matter what he did and Connor started to feel distinctly uneasy.

  
"I understand that Sarah Anderson was a certified biochemist?" Connor pressed Bill when it all became too much for him to handle.

  
"Oh sure. She worked for, well, Cyberlife."

That caught Connor's attention and held it as Bill continued. "She was a bit of a cold fish. Nice enough but just not very emotional or good with people. That was Hank's area of expertise. Although you wouldn't think it now."

  
"The morning you saw Hank, your statement mentioned a car?"

  
"Oh yeah! Very fancy. Brand new merc built this year. I work at a dealership and that model is a pretty sweet thing. High spec. Only the extremely wealthy owns those."

  
"And yet Hank was traveling with his dog in one?"

  
Bill shrugged. "He said he borrowed it. Here," the human grabbed a small piece of paper from a pile nearby. "I looked up the make once i got inside. Bit of a car nut so I just had to find out what it was."

  
Connor glanced at the details, noting the model and specifications, including the exorbitant cost. "Thank you," he replied eagerly.

* * *

 

The station beckoned ominously in the distance as Connor walked through downtown. The storm from yesterday continued to howl but Connor was heedless to its wind and rain.

  
His mind was preoccupied with filtering out every bit of data he could find on Sarah Anderson, employee of Cyberlife. And he'd found it after significant difficulty. She worked under her maiden name Reynolds while with the company. A close associate of Elijah Kamski, she'd earned a thoughtful recommendation from the reclusive billionaire just before leaving Cyberlife to start her own smaller company.

Hank had never said a word to him about this. That thought was accompanied by a brilliant error message that colored his vision briefly before he'd quelled it.

  
"Zarathustra," he murmured out loud to himself instead. An unusual name for a company focused on biotechnology. Connor quickly flipped through their website, finding numerous references to Nietzsche – a philosopher that Kamski had also followed closely. He had also found an image of the woman in his search. It was the same face he'd seen after that virtual version of his missing friend had touched his shoulder in the garden.

  
She was beautiful and slim, perfectly presented in clean well fitting clothes that were similarly coordinated. Sarah Reynolds had the appearance of a delicate doll clothed in the very best the world had to offer. Nothing like Hank.

  
For some reason that upset Connor even more. The fact that this person was Hank's ex wife and, if what Connor had seen was to be believed, he'd gone to her. She was the key to finding Hank but Connor didn't want to meet her.

Suddenly he felt intensely inadequate but for what reason he couldn't quite put a finger on.

Connor abandoned his journey to the station and instead directed himself to Sarah Reynolds' last known address.

* * *

 

It was big, ostentatious and very much in the same design vein as Kamski's own hideaway.

  
Connor had approached up the driveway cautiously while taking in the view. He thought of Hank squirreled away in what was his former smaller marital home and his ex-wife in this one. Connor couldn't help but feel that Hank had ended up the worst considering all that his neighbor had confided.

  
To his surprise, the front door opened before he'd even reached it to knock. His target had clearly spotted him approaching.

  
"You're... Connor, right?"

  
He blinked, stopping his approach. "You know me?"

  
Sarah, with perfect makeup and dressed in white linens, nodded. "Hank's always been a talker. I've been expecting you. Hoping it would have been a bit sooner but it is what it is. Come on in."

  
"Where is Hank?" Connor demanded firmly with feet rooted solidly to the ground.

  
"He's near. Very near. He's not here right now but he will be soon. Please... come in."


End file.
